


Stand By Me

by Veelez (Hyela)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:51:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyela/pseuds/Veelez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tweens Stiles and Scott go on an adventure in the woods to see a corpse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand By Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homoeroticismforthewin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homoeroticismforthewin/gifts).



> Stiles/Scott  
> Rated PG-13 for a dead body and some kissing.  
> Alternate Universe: Stand by Me.

_No, I won't be afraid, oh, I won't be afraid_  
 _Just as long as you stand, stand by me_  
~Ben E. King, Stand by Me

  
They were staring at a dead body and Stiles was feeling sick. The person was a woman, around her early twenties. She probably could have been qualified of pretty when she was not in a steady state of decomposition, covered in mud, and cut in half. With the bottom half missing. Stiles was definitely going to be sick.  
One thing sure, it was nothing like finding a dead cat on a road. Empty glassy eyes, greyish skin and brown, human guts and dried up blood were revolting on a whole other level. It really wasn’t the same thing as watching gory stuff happen in a movie. And that smell? The smell of death. He thought he already knew it. He thought dead smelled of disinfectants, and sweat, and vomit in hospital rooms. But, he noticed with surprise, this was almost just as bad.

  
They couldn’t stay here too long.

  
He taped his foot on the ground nervously, diverted his gaze and glanced at Scott next to him. His friend carried a calm, absent expression. Weird. Scott could burst into tears at the sight of a dead dog. On television.

  
Stiles raised an eyebrow.

  
“Seems like at least one of us isn’t going to lose their lunch, man,” he tried, uncomfortable. Scott actually jumped, but did not raised his eyes from the... woman. He remained quiet, head hung down. Stiles began to worry.

  
“Um, hey, are you okay? Because if you do need to throw up, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If you want, we can even throw up together. Out of solidarity, you know?” he stopped, waited a few seconds. Still nothing. “Come on, Scott, say something, don’t let me stumble on my words...” But Scott seemed frozen in time.

  
Out of desperation, Stiles left him there and went back to were they dropped their bags a few metres behind (to better run to the, um, lady). He opened his and dug for something, anything, useful but disposable. Frantic, he finally grabbed a sweater before running back to Scott. There, he hesitated a second, and then hastily placed his cloth on the woman’s face. There. He looked at Scott, hopefully, reminding himself of a puppy (did I do good, Scottie?).

  
Scott did not move for a while, and then, silently, he turned around and made his way back in the opposite direction. He did not even stop to take his bag, which was totally unfair. Did he really expect Stiles to just carry everything? They had a shit ton of stuff in there! Besides, Stiles was still feeling his stomach do weird things; he was upset too! In fact, he was making a considerable effort to contain his er contents by sympathy for Scott!

  
Nevertheless, he grabbed his friend’s things before going after him, worry gripping his heart and keeping snide remarks from escaping his mouth. This was bad. If he couldn’t find anything to say, this was bad. He was already starting to regret this whole ‘Hey, let’s go look for the lost half-body I heard my father talk about!’ plan. Scott wasn’t going to talk to him ever again and, on top of being the spazzy kid, he’d be the morbid one too. The one who’s idea of fun was to show other people cadavers.

  
Yes. Stiles was already visualizing it. Then, a teacher would notice and call his father. Then, his father would ask Scott who would tell him everything because he still thought that lying to a sheriff was blasphemy or something (Scott and his westerns, really). Then, his father would think this was all because of his mother and Stiles would have to go see a therapist again. He’d be the spazzy kid, the morbid kid AND the traumatized little shit all at once. And he’d be alone, because people at his school didn’t do ‘weird and unpredictable’.

  
Stiles shook his head weakly and ran closer to Scott. As he saw Scott stiffening a bit, he suddenly dropped the bags and captured his friend in his arms from behind.  
“I’m sorry Scott. Please talk to me again. I won’t show you any other body in the future, I swear!” he managed to get out on an embarrassingly fast, high-pitched tone. Scott was trying to turn around to look at him, but Stiles refused to let him go.

  
“What are you talking about, Stile? I’m not mad at you.” Scott finally uttered quietly. His tone was a bit bland, like he was keeping something in. Stiles’ father used that tone many times before, especially when...

  
“You’re not mad? Why are you not talking? Why do you look so upset, it’s like you knew her or something... I mean, the mental image will slip in my nightmares, but you seem—”

  
“I don’t know Stiles! Would you please let go? You’re strangling me, man!”

  
Stiles reluctantly let go, wanting to point out that it wasn’t strangling if he wasn’t constricting the throat, but he doubted that interested Scott. Maybe later.  
Scott turned around. His eyes were moist. Arg. Stiles shuffled his feet on the ground uneasy and waited. Scott opened his mouth a few times, closed it, looked around, looked at Stiles, grimaced, rubbed his eyes, put his hands in his sweater’s pockets... This was dragging a bit. The silence was starting to weight a ton too. But Stiles had to be patient and suffered it out.

  
“I don’t know why, but... I just started thinking... I mean, she was so young and... What, you just wake up one morning, and you follow a routine; you go get a coffee, or you go for a run... and suddenly you get attacked, out of nowhere, by some maniac who wants to cut you in two! How fair is that? And if they were a stranger to her, that’s worse! You could get jumped and dismembered at anytime, there’s no way to prepare for it! Or it could happen to your loved ones... And it’s the same for animals, we kill them and they don’t see it coming... I just...”

  
At this point, Scott’s voice broke and he just stood there, staring at Stiles helplessly, almost begging him to not take him for an idiot. He seemed a little out of it. With this kind of thoughts, this wasn’t surprising. Stiles put his hands on his hips and straightened up, making himself look taller, more confident; someone you could lean onto.

  
“Scotty, I know what you feel,” he started, trying to formulate his ideas rapidly. Further silences would only increase the awkwardness of it all and make him lose courage. “I felt that when my... when my mother died, you know. It’s... I think it’s ‘staring into the abyss’.”

  
“What?”

  
“Nevermind. It happens, it’s just... suddenly realizing that you are living in a big scary place, where a lot could happen. When we play video games, or go to school, it’s easy to forget that. Sometimes, I think it’s better to forget it... or just not think about it.” Stiles ended his sentence in a murmur.

  
“But then we are left unprotected!” cried Scott.

  
“You’re unprotected anyway, Scott! You think if someone set your house on fire in the middle of the night and locked you and your mother inside, you’d have more insight to escape because you obsessively thought about it everyday for years before it happens? I had time to think about dead and sickness when my mother got cancer, and she died anyway a year after, and still nobody was prepared for it! Not really....” Stiles trailed off, red creeping on his cheeks. He hadn’t thought about this stuff in a long time. He looked into Scott’s eyes, fearing to find pity there. Fortunately, there wasn’t any. Just... understanding. It’s been a while since he’d seen that too. Even his father’s eyes were sometimes too clouded with the man’s own grief to offer real understanding. Stiles let out a sigh of relief.

  
“I’m sorry Stiles. You went through that and here I am er angsting to you about sudden fears. That must look a bit silly,” Scott said quietly. He smiled a little.  
“No, not at all. I’m sorry I snapped. I don’t like seeing you all upset.”

  
“T’sokay. It’ll pass. Already feeling better now that we’re... away. Still, no more dead bodies, Stiles.”

  
“No more dead bodies, I promise. You’re too young for an existential crisis, it looks like shit on your face.” Joking was good. Reestablishing a solid ground under their feet. Scott’s smile even grow a bit.

  
“It looks like shit on you too, man. And with the buzz-cut, you look like an old monk. Aw, don’t frown, now you look like a red Yoda.”

  
“Ha ha ha, Scott. I hope you’re not thinking about becoming a stand up comedian, because you’d be doomed to disappointment. You nerd.”

  
Scott snorted and opened his arms in an invitation. Stiles jumped in it. They hugged for a moment, at last comfortable (and totally unconcerned that anyone might appear and laugh at them. That was nice).

  
“Thanks, Stiles. You’re a good friend,” whispered Scott.

  
...

  
Way to go, Scott. Here he thought they had gone through the awkwardness, but his friend had to plunge them right back into it. He leaned backward, smiled goofily and shook his head at Scott. “Dude, you got to stop hitting on me. I know I’m the greatest thing you’re ever gonna get, that I’m irresistible and that I fulfill your life to the brim, but have a little composure!” Stiles exclaimed, putting humour in his voice.

  
Scott rolled his eyes. “Sure, Stiles. You’re the love of my life.” He smiled mischievously (Uh?)

  
And then Scott kissed him.

  
Not just a peck. A full, willful, lasting press of lips against lips. Like parents do when they part. It felt good, a bit weird though, and... and Scott, who was totally a dude, was totally stealing away his first kiss! His first kiss that he was saving for the beautiful redhead extraordinaire Lydia Martin! Oh God!

  
Stiles pushed Scott a little and, fortunately, he got the message and took a step back. The lunatic was still smiling. How dare he! “Scott! What are you doing, man?”

Stiles couldn’t help but shout. Scott lost his smile and his eyes widened, making him look like a deer caught in headlights. Ah. Obviously Scott didn’t think of the ‘after’ part of his little plan. How Scott-like of him.

  
“Ah, err, sorry man... I-I thought it’d be funny!” he exclaimed, blushing and looking away, “I thought this might be no more a big deal than a manly hug...” he added quickly. Stiles snorted.

  
“Are you gay, Scottie? Not that I care if you are, my aunt Sophia is gay, but you could have just say so...”

  
“No! Well. I don’t think so. I notice girls too. Just... I didn’t think it’d be a big deal to kiss a guy, you know?” Scott said. It was obvious that he was feeling lame.

  
Stiles decided to take on himself a little. Anyway, he just lost his first kiss and... really, it wasn’t as outrageous as he thought it was. He didn’t feel any differently. So maybe there was no big deal in... what would you call that, casual kissing? No shame. So Stiles shrugged, grabbed Scott by his sweater, winked and pulled him into another kiss.

  
This one was more elaborated, as Scott had time to see this coming. Which meant sloppier, because Stiles had never kissed anyone before (seems like he repulsed girls or something... but maybe he’d be better with gay guys? Then he had to practice. Just in case) and he could bet that Scott didn’t either.

  
After a bit of moving and fussing around, they found a comfortable angle and just kissed, without tongue, slowly. They didn’t know what to do with their hands, though, so Stiles let his on Scott’s chest and Scott brought his on top of Stiles’s. Which was a little gay. But, well, less gay than two dudes kissing, he guessed.  
Stiles didn’t feel palpitations. He wasn’t sweating, didn’t have a rush of attraction, wasn’t falling in love with Scott or anything, but it was nice. Really nice. Having Scott so close, so peaceful and relaxed (compared to a few minutes ago anyway), it felt comforting. Plus, like anything else, it seemed like it was better doing it with Scott than cracking and paying someone else to do it.

  
Scott sucked on his upper lip, making Stiles shivered, and stepped back. He effectively looked at peace. Nevertheless, as they smiled shyly at each other, Stiles could still feel the silence around them and he really could do without those.

  
“Scottie, sorry to say, but if our idea of a first kiss is to wait until after we just saw a dead body, I think it’s safe to assume that we’re going to stay a virgin for a long, long time, my friend. You’re really a bad influence.”

  
Scott blushed and looked playfully affronted. “Shut up! You’re the one who wanted to see a corpse, you deviant fuck!”

  
“Oh, potty mouth! You kissed me with that mouth, young man! A little more respect!”

  
“Idiot!” Pause. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we’re joking and laughing when there’s a dead girl a few metres away? No wonder people think we deranged.”

  
“Nah, we’re just born explorers! And the corpse can’t feel insulted in its condition. It can wait there patiently until the cops find it.”

  
“Born explorers. Think this is going to be our lives, later?”

  
Stiles could only laughed at that, the grotesquerie of the situation hitting him, but leaving him indifferent at the same time. Who cares if they were a little morbid, and took interest to weird stuff for their age? As long as he could do it with Scott, it’d be alright.

  
“Probably, Scott! There are worse lives to live, anyway.” He pecked Scott on the lips and then ran away, laughing at Scott’s screams of indignation that he was not going to carry both bags home.


End file.
